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marcuspikegf · 1 day ago

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harry castillo x single mom! reader

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞

wordcount: 3.4k | requests are open | about me+ masterlist

reblogs and comments are appreciated!!! comment if you want to be tagged! send me asks about this! asks/ideas/anything! inbox is always open :)

summary: it's a rainy day in nyc, a couple of months after the breakup and harry castillo accidentally trips over into the cutest 3 year old and and meets her mother too.

warnings: warning this is so cute your teeth will ROT (no warnings just fluff fluff fluff). in my head there was an age gap of 20 something years reader is a single mother but really it can be any age u want, not rlly specified, reader just knows airdrop better than this old man HAH. i think i used like y/n once like. thrice. afab reader, you have a daughter. your ex husband died like 3 years ago.

authors note: i was stuck in the city in the rain today and this idea POSESSED ME. and i had to write it plz cut me some slack it's 5am when i'm posting this i havent slept a wink just i've been writing this. no capitals, its just a lot of yapping this fic, it's a new style of writing. pls let me know if this is shit so i can go back to my old style, this is much more like. idk. stream of thought. pls let me know if anyone wants a sequel, if not this is just a oneshot. so not my ancient rome posessed ass usual...but thats OK. HARRY IS SUCH A GIRLDAD. reblogs and likes and follows are actually just love. ok brb im going to bed now...! (edit, i just woke up) OMG i am so glad u guys like this. i hope u guys like maya she is so cute and teeny and will be using harry has her new climbing frame. reader is just a frazzled single mom who loves her daughter very much. harry realises that a family is something he can still have. i fear i am in the baby fever trenches.

new york in the rain is always…something else entirely. after the break up with lucy, after everything, the summer comes with patchy spells of rain, like clockwork. manhattan’s large buildings cover him from most of the rain, but the road halfway to his office has been blocked since yesterday night, due to emergency works in the pipeline, and he has to walk the last half a mile. and anyway, he’s given this morning off to his driver. the cab driver’s dropped him off here, and now it’s just him and this stretch of road that he has to walk through, and flag another cab on the other side.

he would obviously rather not do such a thing, because. well — his suit is silk and well tailored, and he wears freshly polished oxfords on his feet he’d rather not get scuffed. it’s almost 9, and he is so ridiculously far away from the financial district, it’s embarrassing. this was not a good time to be late for work, especially not late for work in drenched clothes and no umbrella. he had a reputation to uphold, in the office at least.

the rain falls harder, and he starts walking faster, head hunched over his phone on the pavement, he needs to call his assistant, let her know that no he will not be showing up today, and yes he will be there for the meeting by 12. should be anyway.

a splash, and he feels water coat his trousers. they’re grey, and anyone can see the damn water stains on them now. it’s muddy water too, splotches against his calves and his ankles. he looks up from his screen, to see the offending person who’s splashed his $700 suit.

to his surprise, it’s a child in a yellow raincoat. excited as she jumps up and down, her brown hair in plaits as she runs into puddles, a jump, a dart, and then she’s out again, stomping her feet onto every single divot where water has gathered.

he smiles at that, anger being washed away as the rain falls.

and then his eyes land on you, running behind what could only be your daughter. you share the same eyes, the same face shape, you’ re basically mirroring every movement of hers, haphazardly. long hair tied into a bun, you look frazzled, exhausted.

“maya!” you shout, chasing after your daughter with the umbrella in one hand; attempting to not have it blow away by the wind. the other hand reaches out for her, but not before she trips over his oxfords, scuffing them, tumbling into a puddle.

it’s right in front of him, and a child’s just fallen down, he doesn’t have any children, but he isn’t heartless.

he stops his speed walking, and holds out his pointer finger for her to grab, and she does so with her tiny hands, wrapping around his finger, tugging at it. she stands up with a little “oof”, and he can see the scrape on her cheek from when she hit the floor, the muddy water on her face, leaving behind a grubby stain. suddenly, something overwhelms him, and he crouches down to her level, to wipe away a little of the grit that’s pressed against her cheek.

“oh my god, i am so sorry about that!” you say, out of breath, as you catch up to the two of them. he looks at you, and then your daughter. it’s almost as if you’ve managed to copy and paste yourself, a smaller version of you with the same bright eyes, even if yours have been dulled by…well. he doesn’t know. life?

“it’s no worries.” he smiles back, still not standing up, his hands linger over the child’s cheek, the scrape bleeding a little, “hey, is she okay?”

you scrub your face with your hands, and crouch down to your daughter, and he realises that you’re short, quite a bit shorter than him, anyway.

“maya, angel, are you okay?” you wipe the blood away off her skin, the red staining your thumb as your eyes mist up. you hate to see her in pain, that much is obvious.

“otay.” she holds up her thumb in agreement, and nods. harry’s a little surprised kids can be like that, all soft one moment, all solid the next. she scrunches up her nose, and her fringe sticks to her forehead, she can’t be any more than three, a toddler running loose in new york on a wednesday morning. sure, that might as well happen, he think.

“mumma’s still going to check, okay?” you kiss her cheek, and then straighten up, lifting her up in one swoop. he takes it as a cue to stand up too, shaking his arm, and picking up the umbrella you’ve dropped to pick your daughter up.

“your umbrella..?” is literally all he can manage, because his stomach is doing flip flops right now, looking at you. you, with the pretty eyes, fogged up glasses perched on your head. you’re wearing formal wear, a blouse and a floral skirt, and your daughter smiles looking at him holding out the umbrella.

“umbella.” her small hands try and grab it, but there’s no way she’ll be able to hold it, and so he keeps a grip on it, steady.

“i don’t think i have any room for it.” you huff, “you keep it mister!” you wave at him, with your left hand, “seems like you need it.”

no ring.

so why did he notice that?

you smile at him, and he smiles back, before you start walking towards the nearest open coffee shop.

and then he jogs up to them, “hey! miss!” what’s possessing him to do this? he’s fifty for god’s sake, and he sounds like a nineteen year old with a crush.

you turn back, and see him holding out the umbrella for you, “yeah..?”

“your daughter tripped over my shoes,” he sounds sheepish, “let me buy you a coffee, it’s the least i can do ma’am.”

you frown for a second, and then hear the thunderclap, look at the downpour. “okay…yeah, sure. okay, why not.”

maya curls around your neck at the sound of the thunderclap, and the sight squeezes something in his heart. you soothe her with a kiss to her forehead and a stroke on her hair.

“she can’t stand thunderstorms.” you say, nodding at her, “i’m trying to get her to nursery, but the subway wasn’t working? they’re saying the tracks got flooded?”

“they need to fix that, sooner or later.” but he hasn’t used the subway in years, his driver takes him everywhere.

“mhm.” you agree, and the two of you step into the coffee shop, it’s upscale, the ones that sell the bags of their own brand, artisanal coffee in store too.

your daughter — maya — with her brown plaits, blinks up when she smells coffee. and then snuggles back into you again. she’s so tiny, with her little hands playing with the loose strands of hair around your neck. is this what he’s missing out on?

“so, what do you want, anything, it’s on me.” he says, putting the umbrella back in it’s case, and putting it in the empty water bottle holder of your bag.

you frown, and then look down at your daughter. “what do you want baby?”

he didn’t expect you to ask her what she wanted, he just thought you’d get something expensive and leave, what with him inconveniencing you. instead you ask maya, and she murmurs something in your ear.

“have you been here before?” you ask, frowning as he reads the menu.

“this is a chain, there’s one near my work place in the financial district.” he says, noncommittally, there’s no reason to tell her what he does, not yet.

“oh okay,” you say, and then you whisper back to your daughter, “i think if you ask the nice man, he’ll know more than me, okay baby?”

she nods, and then peeks her head out of the crook of her mother’s neck.

“hi.” she says, her voice oh so delicate.

“hi.” he says, a little awkwardly, he’s not great with kids. never has been, probably never will be.

“what’s ‘our name.” she asks it so confidently, it throws him off. in the middle of the line for the counter. you laugh at that, and harry thinks he quite likes the sound of your laugh.

“i’m harry castillo, but you can call me harry.” he holds out his finger again, and she shakes it with her little hand.

“go on, ask mr castillo the question.” you prompt her, gently.

“otay.” she frowns, like she’s remembering. “what’s really sweet here? mumma says i can’t have sweets at home. your teeth get holes. but what’s super sweet here?”

he laughs at that, and you shake your head, “maya! you don’t have to tell mr castillo about home baby.” but he wants to hear about home, he wants to hear about how silly it is raising a child, what your home is like, what maya is like, what you are like.

“it’s harry, and it’s fine, really.” home for him is a huge penthouse with nobody inside. so really, anything is interesting to him.

“otay. can ou tell me what’s sweet here?” she asks, more seriously.

he hums, looking at the menu. “maybe the caramel hot chocolate it’s caramel and chocolate.”

you smile at that and so does maya, matching smiles on your faces, why does it light up the room, why does that light up his morning.

you get to the counter quickly, and he tells the barista what to order, putting his card to the machine before you can even see that he’s picked out two pastries for you two too. is the total $28? yes, but that’s a small price to pay, for everything.

you sit at the couch with your daughter beside you, and the barista calls out “maya!”

you watch as he picks up the plates and cup from the counter, and brings it to you. your daughters eyes widen, and she starts drinking from the cup with the straw.

“you don’t have to do this!” you push the cinnamon bun towards him, your daughter has unfortunately already got her hands on the glazed cherries, and has them in her fist right now, “please, let me pay you back.”

“no, it’s fine, really.” he still has that awkward smile, “i did trip your daughter up.”

“by accident, and it’s fine, kids fall over all the time.”

“but are you sure she seems okay?” he frowns, and he notices your eyes catch his hands.

“she’s fine, i promise, it’s nothing more than a little graze, see?” you point to her cheek, and the scrape has scabbed over already.

“and her head and everything…?” he says, and you smile again, more reassuringly.

“yes,” you take a sharp breath, “kids are meant to survive, i promise, she’s okay.”

“oh.” he says, quietly, “okay.”

“no worries mr castillo, thank you so much, maya will be raving about this for days now.” you smile at him, genuine gratitude, and it’s at this moment where he realises that he would spoil you and maya forever. if he could.

“i didn’t catch your name..?” he asks, gentle smile on his face.

“oh yeah, of course, it’s (y/n).” your focus is on your daughter now, who asks if you can cut up the cherry turnover into smaller pieces for her. it’s clear you have no idea who the hell he is, and he’d rather it stay the way.

it’s cute, how quickly maya smiles at him, how you smile at him. he walks up to the counter to get another paper straw as the one in maya’s cup starts to disintegrate, and the barista there smiles at him.

“lovely family you’ve got there.” she says, handing the straw over, “your daughter looks just like your wife, except she’s got your smile.”

those words make him freeze. daughter, wife. you just met them half an hour ago, and suddenly you do look like you and maya would suit his apartment better, suddenly it looks like maya’s little smile looks a little like his own.

“oh that’s…” he trails off, just take the win man, you aren’t going to get a wife and child. not at your age, his mind thinks. “thank you.”

“no worries, have a nice day!”

and he walks back to the couch where the two of you sit, sitting across you again.

“here’s the straw.” he hands it over, and you swap out the straw that’s broken for the other one.

“thanks.” you smile, and nudge your daughter.

“tanks mr catillo.” she sniffles, and then sips the hot chocolate again.

“it’s harry, and it’s fine, really.”

is it? his heart is melting.

“do you have anywhere to be later?” he asks, and your smile turns into a frown quickly. that was a silly question.

“yeah, work. maya can’t stay without me too long in weather like this, so i’m just taking her to work with me.” you sigh, “i mostly work from home, but the office says you need to come in on wednesdays.”

“oh, which way are you going?” he asks, and you shrug.

“midtown, i work at a tech company, but i doubt i’ll be anywhere at this time of day.”

he laughs at that, all rich like butter and biscuits. “yeah, fair enough, i’m trying to get to the financial district without looking like a wet rat.”

you smile at him, and he can feel your eyes ghost over his curls. “no, i don’t think you look like a wet rat mr castillo.”

“it’s harry.” he sighs, and leans over the table, maya mimicks him and does the same. they’re content in making silly faces at each other for a bit as you scroll through your inbox.

“i’ve never seen her take to someone so quick.” there’s a smile on your face, proud. “she’s always very shy, but she loves jumping up in the rain.”

he hasn’t thought of lucy, or matchmaking, or anything right now. just the woman in front of him, with the child currently blowing a raspberry at him.

“maybe i just have a trustworthy aura.” he smiles, all charm.

“or maybe it’s because you gave her three sources of sugar.” but there’s no bite to your words, not really, “thanks, i can’t wait for the sugar crash that’s going to come next.”

maya has a fringe that sticks to her face with the rain, and your glasses that are fogged up sit on your hair, and you smile at him like he’s the only man alive.

oh god. he’s sunk in so deep, it’s ridiculous.

and he doesn’t even know if you’re single, available, whatever. no ring doesn’t mean, no father.

“can’t you give her to her father?” he blurts out, and your vision darkens.

“no, um, maya’s dad died two months after she was born.” you shake your head. “daddy’s with the stars now, isn’t he?” you say, in hushed tones to your daughter, but it’s like you’re saying it for yourself.

“oh.” he gets quiet again, “sorry about that.”

“no it’s fine, really.” you say, with some resolution in your voice. the sun is finally peeking out of the clouds, and this magical moment has to come to an end, soon anyway.

maya burrows into your chest again as you coax her to stand up, she doesn’t want to walk any longer, and harry doesn’t know how long you’ve been walking for anyway. without a single thought, he picks up your daughter like she weighs nothing.

maya shrieks with laughter, this is higher up than she’s used to.

you just stare at him with narrowed eyes, but he just sort of stands there, six feet tall with a child perched in his arms, waiting for you to say something.

you huff, and then close your eyes, as if to say “i’m trusting you with this.” and then your eyes harden, “if you hurt her..”

his face blanches, but he still holds onto her like she’s precious, and she is precious, with freckles on her face and bright eyes like she’s the sun incarnate.

she sits on his shoulders once you leave the coffee shop, the water is drying quickly and there aren’t too many people on the streets. your eyes still linger on your daughter, but also trail over his broad shoulders and broad back.

tugging at his hair with her small hands, squishing his face, “don’t pull mr castillo’s hair.” you scold.

“it’s fine really.”

“are you sure?” you ask, worried.

“i’m sure.” he nods, and maya is folding over his face now, dangling her face against his.

“do ‘ou like cheese? stars make noises? can ‘ou read?” rapid fire questions that come out of her mouth. you smile as he painstakingly answers them “yes i like cheese, i don’t know about stars sorry, and yes i can read.”

she hums thoughtfully, and then sits back up, playing with his hair. the blocked off road is coming to an end now, and you reach at her feet, in little wellington booties.

“cmon now, time to say goodbye to mr castillo.” he’s given up correcting you.

“arry.” she says, sadly, hand still in his hair.

“careful now maya-bear, mumma has to go to office, you need to come with me okay?” you reach out for her? and harry tries to pass her down, but her hands pull at his shirt.

“come on now.” you coax her again, “you can see mr castillo later on, okay?” and she clambers off him, and onto you.

“thank you for that.” you whisper, gratefully.

“no worries miss.” he smiles, a blush on his cheeks. god what he wouldn’t do to have a family like this, a wife and his own child, running around. then he wouldn’t even have to tell them to go.

“it’s (y/n),” you clear your throat, “it’s fine, call me that and i’ll call you harry.”

“(y/n) it is then.”

“right—“ you put maya down, and let her walk beside you, holding onto your hand. “this is where we say goodbye, right?”

a feeling in his chest. would this be his last chance?

“are you free tomorrow evening?” he asks, far too quickly.

“tomorrow..evening..?” you stutter, “um, maybe? i dunno, i’ll have to check, probably not though, mayasitting .”

“oh, i was just wondering if you wanted to get some dinner.”

“oh, OH.” you blush, “right, like. that. and this is dinner dinner, and not just, dinner.”

“…what?” he knits his brows.

“no, i mean, never mind.” you shake your head, maya pulling at your hand to turn right. “like, dinner as in. like feeling bad for a single mom sort of dinner or-“

“no, date dinner.” he likes when you stumble over your words, it’s cute.

“ah, date dinner.” you hum, “yeah okay, if you’re okay with maya coming.” a protective hand on her head. “i’m not going anywhere without her, or your house.”

“no, of course.” he glances down at maya, ��of course she can come. there’s a nice pizza joint in downtown manhattan that you should come visit. it’s near my office.”

your lips quirk upwards, a ghost of a smile, “okay, yeah, sure, i’d like that. would you like it maya?”

maya grabs onto his trouser clad leg with her grabby little hands (sticky with sugar from the pastries) “PIZZA!”

“okay, so that’s decided then.” your mouth is dry as you watch him smile down at her and shake her hand again. he’s so good with your girl, it makes your heart thud, “can i get your number?”

he nods, and then passes over a business card, and you laugh as you read over it. “i meant maybe airdropping my contact over? but this works fine too.”

greying hair, wrinkles around his eyes, sure he’s not your usual type, a a bit older, but you haven’t dated since your husband died anyway.

you ring the number you’ve just inputted, and his phone rings. “save me right now, so you can find me faster.”

“okay, okay.” he puts your name down, “see you six pm? i’ll send the location over?”

( maya doesn’t let go of his leg until she’s promised she’ll see him tomorrow, 200%, and somewhere in his shattered broken heart, a seed of hope grows. )

thank you for reading!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! any comments are very appreciates. lots of loveeee angie

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #harry castillo x reader #joel miller x reader #harry castillo #pedro pascal fandom #marcus acacius x reader #harry castillo x you #materialists #joel miller #the last of us #tlou #pedro pascal fluff #fluff #angst #harry castillo fanfiction #marcus acacius

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missadangel · 11 months ago

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The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC!Princess) All Chapters

-completed-

Summary: You are a secret medicus (physician) who embarks on a perilous journey to heal General Marcus Justus Acacius, who was wounded during the war. However, there is a hidden truth: you believe yourself to be an orphan, but you are mistaken. In reality, you are a Roman princess, the daughter of the previous emperor. Everyone, including your half-brothers who now hold the throne, thinks you died long ago. You remain unaware of this truth, but everything you know is about to change forever.

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x OC/Princess, She has golden hair and hazel eyes, her age is 26, and her name is Aya, (later called Aurelia when she finds out she is a princess)

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI, Smut

Word Count: +300k so far (sorry for writing loong chapters:))

Warnings: falling in love, loss of virginity, mention about virginity, slow burn, rough sex, smut, sex, oral sex (both f&m receiving), all sex, dirty talk, gladiators, battle, war, violence, blood, ancient time language, fluffy, injury, pregnancy, childbirth, breeding kink, drunk sex, grieving, intrigue, passion, lust

my masterlist

ao3 link

I. Heal the Heart

II. The Letter

III. The Intention

IV. The Desire

V. The Council

VI. The Battle

VII. The Wedding

VIII. Lust, Threat, Tension

IX. The Rage

X. The Conflict

XI. The Accusation

XII. The First Kill

XIII. The Missing

XIV. The Ambush

XV. The Plan

XVI. Separation and Triumph

XVII. The Birth

XVIII. The Unexpected

XIX. Trouble

XX. Game

XXI. Retaliation

XXII. Hostile

XXIII. Farewell

XXIV. Grief

XXV. Sorrow

XXVI. Trap

XXVII. Comeuppance

XXVIII. Thirst

XXIX. Defiance

XXX. In Aeternum et Ultra (Final chapter)

My playlist if you care to listen while reading

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paulyenvol6 · 4 days ago

Text

Disruption Pattern

I watched Fantastic Four and I'm obsessed so this is 9,000 words about reader getting wrecked by Reed Richards. Enjoy :)

Contains: smut, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering (f receiving), breast play, dirty talk, objectification, degradation, power imblanace, implied age gap, professor/student, praise, dom/sub dynamic, control kink, mild dubcon (in the beginning), possessiveness, brief crying during sex, overstimulation, size kink, lab sex, aftercare

Wordcount: 9,371

Masterlist

"Hand me those tweezers, please."

"I need the lens."

"Gloves, please."

You came after every single request and demand, hurrying around Dr Richards lab until you were breathless. But even then you continued, handing him his tools with a bitter taste in your mouth.

This wasn't him.

For weeks you had been lying to yourself, had been ignoring the ache in your stomach to convince yourself that there wasn't a problem. But when you hadn't been able to fall asleep at nights, turning from one side to the other while thinking about how effortless and easy your relationship had been in the beginning, you had felt sad.

The moment when Dr Richards had asked you to help him with something in his lab after class had truly been one of the best in your life. You, of all the people, were important enough, smart enough to help one of the most renowned and intelligent scientists in the world with his work. You almost hadn't been able to take control over your shaky hands at the start and had feared that your teacher might throw you out again because you were useless.

But you had gotten a grip on yourself and soon developed a friendly and productive relationship with the professor. You enjoyed working late with him, looking over his shoulder as he taught you about quantum physics, teleportation, and mutation theory. You simply got along well, so it was always the perfect balance of peaceful, quiet work and passionate discussions about hot matters.

Until… two weeks ago.

You weren't able to point out when it had started and neither did you know why.

On a random day, Dr Richards had gotten cold. Unattachable, distant and quiet. He barely even greeted you when you entered his lab, he just set a glass of water on your desk, gave you a forced smile and then hunched over his workspace.

When you asked him a question, he answered, but not with the usual passion behind his eyes, but as if he was uncomfortable or annoyed by your curiousity. He seemed irritated now, whereas before, you had felt like he appreciated your eagerness to learn.

That's why, at some point, you had stopped asking him unnecessary questions, and then you had stopped smiling at him and then you had stopped even just looking at him. Nowadays, you felt like his assistant. Dr Richards commanded you around the room, asked you to bring him the stuff that he needed, but barely exchanged a word with you aside from his requests.

And you felt terrible.

Not just because of the rejection, but because there was an unspoken tension in the room, the question of what had changed lingering in the air aggressively, but neither of you said it out loud. You had spent hours thinking about what you might have done wrong, but couldn't think of anything. You hadn't made a mistake, nor had you destroyed any of his projects or put him back many steps by messing up. You hadn't offended him neither, not that Dr Richards was the kind of person to be hurt by something someone said. In fact, nothing had changed. For you, at least.

You had even come to ask your best friends what you were supposed to do, but unfortunately had received various answers.

Louise had told you to confront Dr Richards because she believed it was always best to clear up misunderstandings before they cut into relationships too deeply. However, Tina had advised you not to say anything because the position at Dr Richards's lab was apparently too important to risk losing by getting into a fight with him. What if he threw you out and you had to live without researching and learning from him?

At first, Tina had convinced you more and you had promised her not to listen to your emotions and keep your distance - if that was what he wanted. But the more days passed, the longer your heart stung in his presence, the more you wavered.

You liked this man, sure he was strange and a little awkward and clumsy when it came to human relationships, but he was still kind and had a good heart. He was a science guy after all and didn't always realise that approaching emotions and feelings in a rational way wasn't necessarily the best way. But you had gotten used to it and had genuinely enjoyed the hours you had spent together in his lab. And now… Now you just wanted to know the truth, at the very least. You wanted to know what you had done wrong and why he seemed so mad at you.

You were tracing along the edge of the desk, waiting for Dr Richards to give you instructions. This was also something that would have been unthinkable three weeks ago. You had never waited for him to ask you to get something before. Most of the time, you had stood behind him, peeking over his shoulder and watching with wide eyes while he showed you something. You were too shy to approach him yourself, so nowadays you often felt bored while leaning against your desk, waiting for him to raise his voice.

"Dr Richards?" you suddenly spoke, driven by an internal force that was working too fast for your brain to catch up.

"Mhm?" he groaned, absent-mindedly observing a sensor.

"Did I do something wrong?"

He froze in the motion, so you knew you had gotten through to him. You had reached through the cloudiness of his mind that protected his massive brain from the outside world. Good.

"What?"

You swallowed and crossed your arms in front of your chest, looking a lot more confident that you felt.

"You're different. I – I've been trying to ignore it, but – but you must've noticed it too. You don't… you talk to me differently. Treat me differently. And I was wondering if I made a mistake or – or insulted you without noticing it."

He still didn't look at you, but you could see his brain working behind his temple. His hands gripped the sensor tightly, but he didn't pay any attention to it anymore. Then he suddenly turned around, brown eyes roaming over your face and for a second you wondered if you had imagined everything. That was until he gulped, adam's apple bobbing in his throat and forehead furrowing.

"No… you haven't. You haven't done anything wrong."

He looked irritated and a little concentrated, as if he was still trying to figure out what was going on between the two of you.

"But – But you must've noticed it?" you asked, voice gripped by panic. You had expected an explanation, or at least an admission that his attitude toward you had, in fact, changed. Dr Richards turned around, leaning with his back against the edge of his desk and crossing his legs. Then he put his hands in his front pockets.

"Yes. I did. And I… I need to understand it."

You frowned, blood rushing in your cheeks at his intense stare.

"You – You don't know why? You just… became cold, but you don't know why?"

He took a step toward you, face tense and jaw locked. He looked… angry, but why? You had thought that this man was easy to understand and deal with. A scientist devoted to his work with physics being the only thing on his mind. You had believed that he didn't even have the time or energy to deal with this kind of drama.

You flinched when he took another step forward, only two or three feet separating you from him now.

"Why?" you breathed again.

Why did you feel so flustered all of the sudden, why was the air so thin? You felt like taking a massive breath to calm your ragged breathing and get a clear head. His eyes sparkled, but he was yet to give you an answer. Wasn't this what he was here for? Having an answer and explanation to everything? Why couldn't he open his mouth and explain things to you just like he always did?

Another step forward and you unconsciously took one back.

"Because you've been driving me insane. And I need to figure out why."

A crease deepened between your brows, breath hitching in your throat as you felt the edge of your desk cutting into your flesh.

"What," you managed to say under breath when Reed suddenly pressed his lips on yours.

Your eyes automatically sprung open, heartrate picking up so fast, you felt like your chest was about to implode. You grabbed his shoulders, simultanously digging into his flesh and pushing him away, but his strength made it impossible. When he eventually withdrew, it was his doing.

"I…," you stuttered, bottom lip trembling and cheeks painted with a bright pink.

"Do you want me to stop?" he said, face inches away from yours. You felt like he was staring right into your soul, his brown irises lingering between your eyes and lips.

"I don't… No, I don't," you whispered, fingers loosely holding on to his lab coat.

You didn't know what you were saying and why you were saying it, but suddenly you were driven by an internal desire to explore whatever this had just been. You had felt terrified and panicky in the beginning, but feeling your professor's lips pushing against yours, devouring you like a hungry animal, like a man possessed by the devil had done something to you. It had stirred up a strong desire in you to let him claim you. You had felt wanted and somehow you couldn't help but wonder what else he could make you feel.

"You don't?" Dr Richards asked again, gently cupping your chin and watching your face like you were one of his scientific experiments rather than his assistent and student. You shook your head as you looked up to him, eyes rounding when he softly traced the outline of your lips.

"Good. Because you've been making me mad these past weeks and I need – I need to figure you out."

He sounded almost desperate, which caused you to scrunch up your nose.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I couldn't concentrate and focus around you, that I – my mind was elsewhere and now I need to understand what this is. What you are."

You should have been scared by those words, but there was something about his hoarse tone that made your lips curl.

"You need to understand what I am? I'm your assistent, your student. You know me, Professor."

He audibly gulped, eyes softening as he skimmed from your face down to your neck.

"I don't know this. These feelings of mine that are haunting me, that – that are distracting me from work. So I need to act. Take off your clothes. Jacket and shirt."

Your jaw dropped in the same moment as your brows raised.

"Just like that? You're not gonna do it yourself, like… gently and slowly."

He had stepped away from you, fingers fondling with the buttons of his coat that he one by one opened.

"If you prefere it that way, okay. But I would like to get this over with as quickly as possible because I have things to do."

Now you were stunned, speechless and utterly perplexed.

"Wow," you made, hands hovering over the hem of your jacket. "I thought… No, I mean, I'm in, okay? I want this, Professor, but I… I don't wanna be a test or – or some experiment."

He turned toward you, his expression so friendly and genuine that you wouldn't have been able to be mad at him, even if you had wanted to. He looked confused and even a little worried.

"No? Then what do you want this to be, good gracious lord?"

You scoffed, biting down on your lip as you crossed your arms in front of you.

"I don't know."

With a sigh, he released the last button and ran his fingers through his hair.

"C'mere."

He tapped on the desk next to him, gesturing for you to approach. You did so, feeling like a puppy who had just destroyed his favorite vase, but were unaware of where these feelings came from.

"Sit here."

You turned around, planted your palms on the edge, and pushed yourself up until you could comfortably sit on the desk with your legs dangling in the air. Reed stepped in front of you and supported himself on one hand that he had placed next to you.

"I didn't mean to hurt you. I generally don't mean to hurt people, but it happens from time to time. Because I – I can't always… I sometimes get so caught up in my head and I talk and I talk and I don't see, you know? I don't see what I'm doing or what I'm making people feel, but – you are a sweet girl. And you don't deserve me treating you like this."

You felt nervous bubbles in your stomach, heart thundering up your throat as you lifted your hand to scrape over his beard stubble – you just couldn't help yourself.

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. I messed up and I'm sorry. It's just that this has been bothering me for weeks now, you showing up here and making my head spin and it was so distracting and – and bad for my projects. But I obviously didn't wanna throw you out because you certainly don't deserve that either and so I thought ignoring you might work and it did for a while, but it's not the solution. And today when you brought it up, I lost it. I'm sorry, I didn't know what I was thinking. You're not an animal and you're obviously not a test object that I get to toss around."

Your mouth and lips had dried up at his speech, so you briefly wettened your lower lip with your tongue.

"I understand," you whispered, looking down to where the tips of your shoes were poking his thighs.

"But I wasn't saying that I'm not interested, you know? Because I am. I just didn't want you to rush it, because… I don't have so much experience. I mean, I'm not a virgin, of course, but… you know, there just haven't been this many."

Reed nodded in understanding, eyes scanning your face that was twisted with nervousness.

"I can't change who I am, but I can try to be better. So that means if we're gonna do this, you need to talk to me and tell me when I'm making you feel uncomfortable."

You grinned, legs slightly parting, so your professor had the opportunity to come closer – which he did.

"Okay. But maybe I also want you to lose control."

His face was expressionless, except for the faint cloudiness in his eyes. For Reed, that was remarkable because the only time his eyes lost their passionate sparkle was after spending 12 straight hours or more in his lab. Even he had to admit to his tiredness then.

"You're always biting down on your bottom lip when you're nervous. I noticed that the first time when we took a look at the spider I brought in and you were scared of it. But now you're doing it because of me."

"I wasn't scared of the spider," you murmured, hands reaching to fist the fabric of his coat.

"You were, I think. You broke into sweat, your pupils dilated and your voice dropped in pitch. Of course there could be other explanations for your behavior, such as extreme anticipation or sexual arousal, but considering the circumstances – "

"Reed," you said, bringing a finger to his lips and urgingly lifting your eyebrows. Something in his face shifted and he clenched his jaw.

"Sorry."

Then, as you withdrew, his gaze dropped to your lips and he leaned in to kiss you. Softer and slower this time, like he actually wanted to savour the moment instead of rushing it. His mouth moved against yours with a delicacy that you hadn't known he was capable of, but it was so intruiging, you quietly hummed into the kiss.

You barely noticed his hands grabbing your waist, even though his touch was firm and deliberate. Again, something that amazed you. You had always thought of him as someone who was too caught up in his head and too devoted to his work to even feel any sexual attraction toward anyone and now here he was, pushing you closer against his broad upper body.

You purred, lashes fluttering as he began to palm your waist through the two layers of clothing. Then he slowly moved to the buttons of your jacket, opening them one by one while not stopping the kiss, but you just had to avert your gaze to look down to where his large, veiny hands worked on your clothes. He kissed along your jaw, beard stubble grazing over your skin while your heartbeat picked up at the sight.

"Reed," you moaned, reaching for his wrists and shoving the sleeves up his arms to get more of him.

"Mhm?" he made and opened the last remaining button.

"I want you."

"I know. I can see that. And hear that."

You rolled your eyes, but chuckled while he peeled off your jacket.

"You're doing it again."

"I know, I'm sorry."

Seeing you in just your white tank top seemed to ignite something larger, something more passionate in him, because your top left your body just a few seconds later. You weren't wearing a bra, which came as a surprise to Reed, who flared his nostrils and settled his hands around your waist again.

"Jesus, girl, you know what you're doing, don't you?"

"Please," you begged, arching your chest toward him, so he could finally do something about your pusling blood and the uncomfortable heat gushing in your center. And your nipples… they were impossibly stiff and aching with the need to be touched. And wasn't Reed the perfect candidate to do something about your despair? He knew the human body better than anyone else after all…

"You know that the human body has 11 pressure points that cause extreme sensitivity and physical reactions such as trembling and elevated heartrate? I'd like to find them all on you."

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, amazed by the fact that his scientific talk was able to turn you on like that. There was something about the way he saw your body as something he had to study, something he had to watch and search for reactions. As long as he studied it well, however…

"Yeah?" you moaned, rocking forward to find something to rub your clit against, but Reed didn't seem to want to lose his grip on the situation.

"Stay still. We'll get to that part when I'm done here," he almost absent-mindedly muttered, eyes taking in your bare chest.

"You're pretty. And warm," he said as he cupped your breast, jiggling your flesh in his palm and loosely brushing with his thumb over your nipple. It was like this man didn't even know what he was doing to you – he did, on a rational level by precisely analyzing your physical reactions, but he couldn't understand it on a meta level.

"Please," was all that you could choke out, clinging to his shoulders like your life depended on it.

"Shh," he hushed you, not even looking at your face because he was too busy tracing and kneading your chest. "I'll take my time, you said you wanted me to. I'm gonna see all of you, touch and taste all of you to understand you. And understand how you react to me."

It was truly torturous. His hands were hot on your body, radiating an indescribable heat that transferred to your skin like molten fire, searing through every nerve ending. And yet, it wasn't enough and you were afraid it would never be enough. And so you pressed your lips together to stop yourself from pleading, even when he lowered his head to kiss the swell of your breast. He testingly explored your skin, kissing and applying pressure to watch for your reaction and then spending more time on that very spot when he felt you squirm or twitch.

Reed soon found your sensitive skin right below your collarbone, and he discovered how much you enjoyed it when he kissed the space between your breasts. Meanwhile, his fingers were twisting your nipples, circled the little nubs or massaged your flesh, which made you question how he was able to multitask like that. You were just glad if a guy you hooked up with was able to do something you liked with either his mouth of hands and Reed was giving you so much more right now.

He seemed to be everywhere, his scent in your nose, his flaming hot skin on your body and his voice and labored breath in your ear. You didn't know where to focus your attention. But it was Reed Richards after all, and you should have known that his intellect had influences on his skills in bed too. You didn't even want to think about his stretching powers because they would officially make you feral.

"Reed," you whimpered again, already too messy to rememeber his last words. "Fuck, Reed, please."

He sighed, raised his head, and looked at you more like a teacher than he had in weeks. Disapprovingly, disappointedly, almost.

"Baby, shh," he cooed, cupping your face, so your frantically moving pupils would settle on him.

"Shh. If you want me to stop, you tell me now. I don't know if I'm gonna be able to if we continue. I know it's a lot, but you're making this really fucking hard for me and I – I just can't think normally. It's making me mad."

"I don't want you to stop," you whined, bottom lip trembling and chest heaving.

"Okay. Okay, babygirl, but you communicate with me either way, okay? I need to know how you're feeling, even though it's gonna be hard for me to stop."

You gave him a soft nod and then gasped loudly when Reed continued his study on your chest. Returning to the spots he had learned were particularly sensitive and responsive, giving extra love to your nipples and sharpening his ears to each moan and sigh. At his point, Reed was so hard in his pants, you felt him against your inner thigh and you just couldn't help yourself, slowly and unsteadily opening and closing your legs with the sole purpose to stimulate him through his pants. Helping him get rid of some of the pressure.

But it didn't seem to be what he wanted.

"Goddamn it, sweetie, I told you to stay still, didn't I?"

You whined, face drawn with hurt at his harsh words, but Reed just brushed along your cheek with his knuckles.

"I can also tie you down, you know? Then I could take all the time in the world with you and wouldn't be bothered by your wriggling and squirming."

You pouted, eyes blown and glossy, but Reed just smacked his wet lips and then dragged kisses down your front until he was right above the waistline of your pants. He opened them with the deft and skillful hands of a scientist, yanking them down until he needed you to lift your hips in order to get them off and softly slapped the side of your ass.

"Hips up," he ordered and helped you get off the desk, so he could pull them down all the way to your ankles.

Then he made you hop back up on the counter and adjusted you to his liking, legs slightly parted and butt right on the edge of the desk. Still fully dressed, he stepped between your legs and then caressed the top of your naked thigh.

"You're shaking, babygirl. Fascinating…," he groaned, hands running up your leg until they loosely brushed over your panties. You presented him your chest, still so taken by the way his hands had felt upon your chest that the memories consumed you to the whole, but it seemed like Reed wanted to take things further now. He grabbed your hips with two hands and then dragged them down to the waistband of your underwear. Then he rolled the fabric between two fingers as if he wanted to test it and suddenly ripped it. You shrieked, jerking backward at the sudden motion, but Reed's grasp on your hips was tight, so he was quick to pull you to the edge again.

"You stay right here… I'm not yet done with you."

He peeled the ragged pieces off your trembling body, knee between your thighs to prevent you from closing your legs. You flinched again when Reed stroked your belly and then down to where your torso and legs met – it was a particulary sensitive spot and so he noticed. Writhing and rolling your hips, you moaned quietly, both cursing and worshipping his touch. Your arms draped around his neck, and Reed seemed to allow it as long as you didn't obstruct his actions. His thumb drew pattern on top of your skin until he finally reached between your legs.

Dripping wetness welcomed him, pussy tightly clenching around nothing just from his index finger dragging a line from your clit down to your hole.

"Reed," you cried out, head dropping forward, but he put an end to it quickly.

"You're gonna look at me. At all times. I need to see how you're reacting to me, don't I?"

You whimpered, but nodded, using your whole strength to straighten up while Reed teased and toyed with your cunt. The pad of his thumb pressed up against your clit, traces of delight on his face whenever you twitched or whimpered his name.

"I like those noises you're making… Let's try that again."

With these words he applied more pressure, rolling slow, but forceful circles into your clit until your teeth sank down hard on your bottom lip. It was too much and you were losing it. Your heart was beating so fast, you began to believe that it was unhealthy. Your toes curled, but you almost weren't aware of it and now your body cringed at the immense pleasure Reed was causing you.

"Reed," you pressed, head surely red like a tomato by now, but he just traced your flush cheeks and made your lip snap with his thumb.

"I can almost hear your pulse, sweetheart. You're responding so well to me, better than I thought."

Suddenly, without warning, he slid two fingers inside you, curling them up instantly and pressing the base of his hand against your clit in order to drown your broken cry in a whine of pleasure.

"Shhh," he made and actually had the audacity to silence you by pressing his free hand over your mouth.

You couldn't explain why, but tears swam on your waterline as you stared up at him, muttering something that was almost completely muffled by his palm, but you came to believe, that it would have been incomprehensable even without the gag. Your hands were still free, though, and you used them to hold on to his strong arms that seemed to breathe under his lab coat. The fact that Reed was still fully dressed while you were naked as you were born both drove you mad and aroused you. You felt vulnerable, delicate and weak, but in a way that made your pussy drip and your clit desperately throb.

"Please," you yelped, a little more audible now, but he still ignored you. His grip on your mouth became firmer and at the same time his two fingers inside of you started to move. Slow, circulating motions that knocked the air out of your lungs. It wasn't just the way he curled his fingers at the exact right angle, driving the tips along your spongy walls and petting the most sensitive and itchy spot of them all, but his thumb that didn't neglect your clit at all. He hadn't forgotten about the aching little nub and made sure to pay an extra amount of love to it.

Reed truly worked on your body like it was his next big project and the deep and concentrated crease between his eyebrows only supported your thesis. He touched you with a remarkable prescision, both using exact knowledge about your anatomy and learning during the process. He seemed to listen to your gasps, intensifying the pressure or picking up the pace whenever you flinched or became louder and pushing to see how far he could go before you jolted away in discomfort. This way, he soon figured your body out, knowing exactly how fast he had to move. He discovered the magical combination of pumping his fingers in and out of you while tapping against your walls every now and then. He learned that you preferred eight-shaped circles on your clitoris compared to plain circles and he also noticed that you liked it when he kissed the left side of your neck but not so much the right.

In other words – Reed had you wrapped around his finger, completely at his mercy and although he didn't test it or seize the opportunity, he knew that you would do anything he asked of you right now. You were a panting mess, sweat soaking your hairline and dripping down your temple and at this point, Reed didn't even warn you when you slouched on the desk. He let you clutch to the edge and his shoulders in turns and only lifted your chin at times when you forgot to keep eye contact.

"I'm gonna cum," you breathed, lids so heavy that Reed couldn't see the white in them.

"Already? That's 8 minutes, 39 seconds then. Which is a lot below the average of 16 minutes and 43 seconds."

You cried out when Reed added a third finger, cunt pulsing and tightening around his digits, which made him groan lowly.

"Take it. All of it, c'mon. You said you could and now you're gonna prove it."

Your blood shot in your head and when you eventually reached your high, you hugged his fingers so firmly, Reed hissed through gritted teeth.

"Jesus, baby…," he growled, slowly riding your orgasm out while you trembled on the desk, sprawled out and struggling for breath.

"That's it. Let go and allow it to take over. Just the way we want it, baby, yeah…"

Your heartbeat echoed throughout your body, pulsing in your ears and even down to your toes. The heat in your core imploded and flooded your system. Now, it beautifully poured into your thighs, lingering lightly beneath your skin like a soft piece of music—effortless and gentle. You were shivering – even as Reed dragged his fingers out of you to take a close look at the glistening wetness coating his skin. He smelled it, paying no mind to the way you blushed in embarrassement, and licked them clean with no hesitation.

"Sweet and a little salty. You're producing a lot of wetness and that's good. PH – value is good too."

"You're doing it again, Reed," you couldn't help but whisper. Your body was pliant on the desk and you would've collapsed on the surface, if it wasn't for his arms holding you up, but you had to grin at his analysis.

"I know I do. But I can't help myself. You're much too fascinating not to analyze."

You frowned, brow wrinkled and nose scrunched.

"What do you mean fascinating?"

"The way you react to me. Your spots. How well you listen."

You uncertainly glanced up to him because was this a compliment? Was this a Reed way of saying that he had enjoyed you so far. Without really having an answer to all of that, you softly smirked, but averted your gaze to look at his chest. Then you stretched your arms to the last closed button of his coat and opened it with some struggling. He looked almost pitiful as he watched you take off his lab coat with so much difficulty, and then allowed you to let it drop to the floor.

His precious, clean coat.

Reed only wore a white button-up underneath, which elicited a frustrated groan in you. More buttons. Fortunately, he helped you this time, swift fingers that had done this a million times already fumbling with his shirt until he could slip his arms out of the sleeves and reveal his broad upper body.

His chest was hairy, dark, thick hair garnishing the space between his collarbone and belly button and you almost began to drool at the sight of his muscular arms. Those were the arms of someone that was working hard all day, but still you came to wonder if Reed might exercise after a long day in his lab. Arms like this didn't just appear out of nowhere. Perhaps you had stared a little too long because your professor grinned, a corner of his mouth lifting in the most gorgeous and elegant way.

"You have a preference for arms and hands. I could tell so earlier when I took off your shirt. You stared at them and I saw you gulp."

He reached for the side of your face. "And you twitched. Right here."

You dropped your lids in shyness, but Reed would have none of that. He just stroked your skin, right where a muscle next to your eye tended to switch every time your body was gripped by arousal. Then he leaned in to kiss you, your lips swollen and sensitive at this point, but you moaned into the kiss as he settled his hands on your hips.

"Are you gonna let me fuck you, baby? I've seen this pussy, I've tasted her and I've fingerfucked her, but I haven't felt her squeeze my cock yet."

Your breath caught in your lungs at his words, the divine mixture of his clinical, scientific precision and the obscenity of his words eliciting an intoxicating heat in your belly.

"Yeah. I want you to fuck me."

He suddenly stretched his arm at your words, doubling it in size to reach a drawer a few feet away from you. You could barely blink with your eye before he had already opened it and grabbed something that turned out to be a condom. You clenched around nothing.

"We don't have to…," you murmured against his neck, too shy to look upon his face. "I'm clean. And I'm on the pill."

Perhaps you weren't fully aware that it was Reed Richards you were talking to. Dr Richards, the correct and cautious professor who always chose the safest options and had a grip on everything. He grabbed your neck, pulling you backward until he forced you to meet his gaze.

"You're gonna look at me when we talk about important matters like this. Do you tell your little boys that too when you let them in your bed? Do you tell them that you're clean and that there's no need for them to wear a condom? Do you know how irresponsible that is, young lady?"

He had his eyebrows lifted and now more than ever, reminded you of the teacher you had met a year ago, heart pounding in your chest as you had learned that you would have the great honor of taking lessons from him. But now you shook your head and ran your hands over his toned chest.

"I don't take many boys in my bed. I've only had one boyfriend and we were always safe. Please, Reed, please just – I promise, I'll be good."

"Did I say you could move?" he barked, gently, yet deliberately grabbing your wrists and pinning them down on your lap. Nevertheless, he casually placed the condom on the counter next to you and wouldn't give protection another thought for the rest of the night.

He moved forward until his clothed manhood pressed against your inner thigh, your cheeks flushed with boiling blood and his hands searching the zipper of his pants.

"Don't look away, babygirl. I want you to see what you do to me. Look at him, look what effect you have on him."

You propped yourself on your hands planted behind you and watched as Reed rocked himself against the softness of your thigh, his dick hard beneath the fabric. Then he freed himself, pants and briefs falling down until they were around his ankles and he could step out of them. Your eyes visibly widened at the view and you had to swallow hard.

He was thick, that was the first thing you noticed. Prominent, plump veins grazed his massive shaft and seemed to pulse as Reed pumped himself a couple of times.

"Flustered. Shy. Just the way I imagined it," he whispered and then moved forward, guiding his leaking tip to your clit. He rubbed his precum into your throbbing bundle of nerves, ignoring the way your knees buckled, and then finally aligned himself with your hole.

"You look like you wanna say something," Reed commented your slightly parted lips and traced the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

"Just need you. Need you inside me," you choked, body tensing with anticipation.

"And I need you to relax in order for me to do that. You need to let me in, baby. Deep, slow breaths through your nose. Focus on your heart and look at me."

You pinched your eyes shut in frustration. What you wanted was right in front of you and still, Reed wouldn't give it to you. Perhaps it was a test or a way to see –

You gasped, pupils hectically skimming over his face. His tip prodded your entrance, slowly circling it as if to see whether he could push in.

"Please," you moaned and moved forward to make it easier for him, but it wasn't what Reed wanted.

"I know. You said it quite a few times and I know what you want, but you gotta learn to have patience."

You cried out at his words, unpatiently jerking your hips toward him, but his grasp on your hips was too firm anyway.

"I know, pretty girl," Reed hushed you and petted your bicep like you were an angry, hot-tempered child. But before you could express another complain, he suddenly entered you slowly, graciously giving you enough time to adjust, but it still took your breath away. You could only stare at him open-mouthedly, brow and palms sticky with sweat, whereas your throat was dry.

"Reed," you whined, swinging your head to the side as a way to release the pressure in your body, but you didn't succeed. It was only him, who could take it away and god he knew it.

"You're tight," he noticed, but it sounded like a observation, rather than a compliment. "You're gonna cum for me again, sweetheart. So hard, I wanna see your arousal drip down your leg."

Again, no praise or a compliment, but a cold demand. One that wasn't supposed to heat your body up the way it did. He was inside you to the brim now, walls stretched to the absolute limit, but not for one second did you think about stopping him or asking him to withdraw. It was the contrary, Reed had awakened something primal, something filthy and hungry in you. Something that had barely even started.

"Reed?" you panted, meeting his deep thrusts and hissing through your teeth as your walls sucked his large dick in.

"Yeah," he replied, holding you down by your hips both for leverage and to keep your squirming body still.

"Do you ever – do you ever use your powers to – to, you know…"

For the most parts, your initial shyness had left your body the moment Reed had inserted himself inside you – he had literally fucked it out of you – but saying it out loud wasn't possible for you, even in that state. You didn't have to, though. Reed cupped your chin and flashed his eyes at you with a new kind of lust.

"I have, pretty dove," he purred, eyeing you with a desire that made your head spiral and your heart skip a beat. Never, and you meant never had you felt so sought after, so wanted.

"Use them. On me," you whimpered, almost desperately clinging to his big arms. Those arms that could probably bend and throw, toss and stretch you to his liking, so he could use you just the way he wanted to.

"No. You're barely even able to take me like that. You're much too tight for that, baby."

You cried out in refusal, eyes tearing up and lips forming a pout.

"No. Please, Reed, please, I can take it."

"I believe you when you say that, but you just don't know. Your DNA is not altered like mine is and you don't know what kind of powers you're dealing with here. But I do. And I know that you wouldn't be able to take it."

You hummed in disapproval, but decided not to fight with him. You would only risk losing his touch on your body. Therefore, you were satisfied with his forceful thrusts, which pushed you up on the desk and would have made your body hit against the wall, if it weren't for his unyielding grip on your hips.

"Do you feel that?" he grunted, coming to a stop deep inside you only to deliver another sharp that reached impossibly far. "That's me, that's how deep I am inside you."

You wailed and felt your legs, which were draped around his hips, slacken. You were about to collaps, that much was clear, but Reed wasn't done with you yet. Feeling your body become pliant under his slams, he grabbed your waist, took a step back and flipped you over on your stomach.

For a moment, you jolted away as your front came in contact with the cold surface of the desk, but Reed had a secure hold on the small of your back. He kicked your legs apart with his foot, spread your buttcheeks and wasted no time burying himself inside you again. The angle offered a whole new level of pleasure, your head embraced by a dense, hazy cloud that blurred all your senses. Your hands uselessly laid next to your head and at this point you really felt like a toy for Reed. He could have done with your body however he liked, and you would have thanked him. You were spread open, body welcoming him inside and he surely took advantage of it.

Now that he didn't have to put so much effort into holding you down, he slipped a hand between your thighs to rub at your clit, holding on to his promise of making you cum a second time.

"Pretty, pretty, girl… So ready to be ruined by me. Perhaps I'll use my powers on you next time, mhm…?" he growled, one hand in your hair to tilt your head and make sure you were properly listening to him.

It wasn't that part, though, that made your pussy flutter. Next time. There would be a next time. He wouldn't throw you out of his lab after this, dump you and never see you again.

"Would you like that?" he snarled and combed through your hair with a tenderness that was surprising to you. "You said you'd like it. Would you like to cry on this dick? Be ripped apart by me? Until all you are is a ruined, worthless mess?"

You couldn't even nod. You didn't have the strength to do so, but Reed had surely studied your body for long enough to read it like an open book.

"I thought about this far too often," he whispered, towering over your body and leaning down to speak into your ear. His voice was a mixture of unwavering dominance and pure filth.

"I thought about this when I should've concentrated on my work and forget about your presence in my lab. And I thought about this even when you weren't around. I thought about you pinned down beneath me, pounding your pussy and watching you react to me. And I couldn't figure it out, I couldn't figure out why I couldn't stop thinking about this. I still don't. Perhaps I just need to fuck you so many times until it's gone. Until I'm able to forget you. Until I've – I've fulfilled this fucking desire in me and I can work normally again."

His large palm took a handful of your hair, turning your head to the side, so he could meet your gaze.

"You're gonna let me do that, aren't you? You're gonna let me ruin this cunt over and over again, dump my seed inside you until these feelings are gone. Until I'm me again. Until that moment, you're gonna let me use you like a little fucktoy. Always ready and at my mercy to be wrecked."

"Y-Yes. Yes, Reed," you moaned, body cringing at the way his finger worked on your clit.

"I'm gonna – I'm gonna cum, Reed, fuck," you cried out, a single tear resolving from your lower lashes and running down your face.

"Yeah, that's it. I know, cum for me and let me see how much you love this. Just breathe and let it happen, jesus – "

He stopped mid-sentence, his dick squeezed so tight by your walls, he held his breath for a moment and then followed you over the edge. Reed uncontrollaby spilled inside you and in this moment he couldn't have felt more relieved about the fact that you had offered him to go raw. Nothing could compare to this. Exploding inside you, feeling his large manhood twitch inside you, hitting the very back of you and filling your tiny cunt up. His cum immediately leaked from your pussy and dripped down your thigh – it was simply too much. Yet, he still kept you close, not pulling out just yet in order to enjoy the pleasure of fucking his cum back into you.

There wasn't a lot you could do about it anyway, body wrecked and exhausted and your hole still fluttering around him as if to ask for more. Reed panted heavily, chest rising as he watched your pussy suck in his seed and his hips delivering slow and steady thrusts into you.

"That's a good fucking girl… Oh lord… Look at that. It was too much for you, wasn't it? Way too much cum to take it into your tiny pussy. And now it's dripping all the way down to your feet."

Your hands laid flat on the desk, a single finger lifting, which was – aside from your high-pitched whimpers – the only proof of your consciousness. Reed inhaled and exhaled a few times, deep breaths in order to ground himself. Then he drove his flaccid length out of you and stroked up and down the back of your thighs.

"Good girl. You did so good. I didn't expect your body to react to me like that. To produce those noises and yearn for me like that. But this helped me quite a lot to understand you… Not why I have these feelings, but what turns you on…"

He seemed to talk to himself, which was of no surprise, since you lay flat on the desk like a lifeless shell. But then Reed gently tapped on your cheeks and brushed the hair out of your face so he could watch your profile.

"Baby. Let's get you cleaned up, mhm?"

There was no reaction, which made him frown. Your eyes were open and he could see your throat move as you gulped, but you made no attempt to get up.

"Sweetheart. C'mon, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

The analytical professor was awakened again, forehead wrinkled as he scanned your body for any external violations. But that couldn't be possible, he hadn't used his powers after all and surely hadn't taken things too far.

"No," you finally whispered and even allowed Reed to assist you in lifting yourself from the desk. He made you turn around until you were in your previous position again, sitting on the edge with your legs hanging over. Reed noticed the way you flinched as your sore pussy touched the hard desk and soothed you by cradling your head.

"All good?" he asked, caressing your bare thigh, but still wearing a worried expression. You seemed sad and whiny, which wasn't exceptional after sex, yet he still couldn't ignore it.

"Yeah," you said so quietly, it was almost drowned by your heavy breathing.

"Baby?" Reed insisted on a truthful reply with raised eyebrows and then smiled as you finally looked at him.

"Are you gonna throw me out now?"

You simply couldn't help it. Reed had told you 5 minutes ago how this wouldn't be the last encounter between the two of you, and you had believed it. Perhaps it was your post-orgasm horomones that now made you doubt everything and anything. The moment Reed had pulled out of you, you had waited for him to pick up your clothes, make you put them on and then guide you to the door. The fact that it hadn't happened yet, didn't exactly soothe you, but only made you more nervous. Part of you knew these fears were caused by the way he talked to you while inside you. In the moment, his degrading words had heightened your lust, but now... now you were unsettled, clinging to him with your eyes like a hurt bunny.

"What?" Reed breathed, voice quiet and incredibly tender. His expression softened up as well, mouth curled into the faintest hint of a smile.

"Are you gonna throw me out now?" you repeated, suddenly captivated by an unreasonable anger.

"No… No, of course not, little dove, why are you thinking stuff like that?"

Well, why did you? You sniffled and locked eyes with him.

"I don't know," you whispered, much less confident.

"C'mere…," Reed murmurated, wrapped an arm around you and briefly held you against his chest. Then he grabbed your face with both hands to make sure he had your attention.

"I'm not gonna throw you out. If it were up to me, I would get you to the bathroom now, take a bath with you, put you into a pair of my pajamas and let you sleep in my bed."

A muscle next to your eye twitched. That very muscle he had noticed earlier. It seemed to flinch whenever you were dealing with heavy emotions or were deeply concentrating.

"With you?" you asked with big deer eyes.

Reed smiled and nodded after briefly wrestling with himself. He didn't want you to get too attached after spending a night with him, but at the same time he couldn't deny you this. The costs of it would reveal themselves later, but for now he would take care of you while risking having you grow affectionate with him. That would be a matter for another day, Reed thought as he suddenly picked you up from the desk, holding you under your arms. Your weak legs instinctively wrapped around him. Then, as if it took no effort at all, and as if he hadn't just used up all his strength fucking you, he carried you to the bathroom. Lowered you onto to the carpet, opened the water tap of the bathtub and tested the temperature until he found that it was warm enough.

Reed once again slipped his arms around you – one underneath your knees and the other around your shoulders this time – and carefully heaved you into the tub all while whispering soothing phrases.

"There you go… You tell me if you want the water to be warmer or colder."

He soon followed you inside, sitting down behind you with his back against the wall of the tub and pulling you snug against his chest. You purred like a content cat, curling up into a ball in his lap and darting up at him with happy eyes as he began to rub patterns on your bare back. Numbers, letters and eventually even physics formulas, which made you giggle.

"What's wrong?" Reed chuckled and continued without paying attention to the vibrations of your body.

Then he took all the time in the world as he grabbed a bottle, poured shampoo onto his palm, and kneaded it into your hair. He spent a generous amount of time massaging your scalp, carefully grazing over your skin with his nails until your eyes fluttered shut. It had gotten late and you could feel your exhaustion in every bone of your body. But of course Reed didn't want you falling asleep in the bathtub, so he was quick to wash your hair, caress your shoulders and neck to make you stay awake and then left the tub to dry his body and grab a towel for you. He offered you his hands and helped you out, careful not to let you slip and wrapped you in a large, fluffy towel. You smiled and let Reed dry your body with his hands, but you giggled again when he pulled a hairbrush out of a drawer.

"What?" he accusingly lifted his eyebrows and brought it to your damp hair.

"Nothing," you laughed, turning around to give him better access.

"I just didn't expect you to be good at these kind of things," you murmured in the end, closing your eyes while he combed through your hair, strand by strand.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I thought this isn't your world."

Reed softly chuckled. "You thought science is the only thing I can understand."

"Maybe. Yes."

He was done now and put the brush aside.

"You'll be surprised then."

Reed stepped away for a moment and left the room without letting you know what he was doing. You waited, patiently chewing on your bottom lip while feeling hugged by a warm, steamy veil. Your eyes were heavy, but a smile remained on your lips when Reed returned with a pair of checkered cotton pajamas under his arm. He helped you put them on, let you wait for another minute while he got dressed too, and then looked you up and down.

"You need anything else?" Reed wanted to know, but you shook your head.

Then, without any warning, he picked you up once again, carrying you through his lab and into his bedroom like it wasn't a big deal. Frankly, you were relieved because you couldn't imagine walking all these steps with your wobbly knees. Your heart felt light as a feather when Reed cautiously laid you down on his four poster bed, careful not to bump your head against the headrest.

Then, he tucked you in, making sure the blanket was right under your chin so that no cold air could brush your skin. Reed glanced at you for a moment, taking in your wet hair and the tiredness around your eyes and then climbed onto the bed himself.

The knot in your stomach resolved because for a moment you had feared that he had given you false promises and would leave you now. Once he was comfortable, too, you immediately hugged his arm that was lying at his side so he couldn't leave even if he changed his mind.

And Reed let it happen and even slipped his other arm around your back, pushing you closer to him.

"All good?" he asked into the darkness, muscles relaxing at the sound of your steady breaths.

You didn't even have to answer. He knew you and your body after his studies today.

You were good.

"Yes," you replied, pressing your face against his muscular bicep. "So good."

Reed smiled.

Just for him this time. Not to reassure you or emphasise the softness of his words directed at you. You couldn't even see it.

And yet, it lingered on his lips for a few more minutes until he fell asleep.

Just for himself.

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thinkerpedro · 3 days ago

Text

Pedro's in love

Summary: During a long press tour, you finally get to see your boyfriend.

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x F! Reader

Warnings: Sexual mention, pubic hair and nudity.

Note: His arms 👁️👁️

Tags: Romance, nudity, intimacy, fluffy, drabble.

word count: 506

The sound of their heavy breathing echoed like a soundtrack in that dark hotel room. Almost 3 a.m., the beams of city lights streaming into the room cast a faint shadow over their naked bodies, tired on the bed.

Pedro had his eyes closed, his hand resting on his abdomen as if he'd run a marathon. In the dim light, it was possible to see the sheen of sweat soaking his lightly haired abdomen, trailing down to his softened cock. He noticed her observation and turned his face, his curls plastered to his forehead like an angel's, as he gave her that relaxed smile, blinking calmly.

Reaching up, he leaned in to seal her lips with his. A calm, sweet kiss, as if saying everything that didn't need to be said. But he found his voice again in a whisper, the first syllables hoarse, almost failing.

"I missed you."

You smile and press another kiss, this time gently slipping your tongue into his mouth, meeting his.

"Me too," you whisper.

His fingers touch your chin and then sweep away the strands of your bangs that insist on covering your eyes.

"God, a month. I thought I'd die without this," he says dramatically, eliciting a giggle from you.

"But now you're here."

"I know, but we only have a few hours before my flight," he laments, then huffs. "Damn, this press tour needs to end."

Since the beginning of the year, you've barely had time to see each other. Dates were becoming increasingly rare, and you had to make do with phone conversations, phone calls, video calls... and when you finally did, they were dates that lasted only a day. Every now and then, you'd fly to see him on set, have lunch together for half an hour, and have awkward sex in a trailer.

He blamed himself so much for treating you like that. You didn't deserve it.

Pedro was as sick of it as you were, but he couldn't just carry you around everywhere, even though he'd tried. In none of his relationships had he demanded or suggested this kind of thing, but spending long periods apart made him despair and ponder absurd ideas. He didn't know what was happening to him; he'd never felt this way.

His strong arms wrap around you like a cocoon, giving you a beautiful view of his biceps flexing. Your breasts brush against his chest, creating a pleasant, comforting friction.

"I wish every day were like this, with you by my side," you whisper, just below his Adam's apple.

"I know, baby. I'm so sorry."

You breathe in his skin, the scent of sweat, soap, and woody cologne. A kiss is pressed to the top of your head, and soon his fingers are tangling firmly in your hair. Your eyes grow heavy, and nestling deeper into his chest, you let yourself drift off to sleep, finding it adorable how his heartbeat quickens as he holds you close.

You knew in that moment that he was madly in love with you.

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tagged-by-trauma · 3 days ago

Text

In his trailer

After a full day of teasing, Pedro shows you who's really in control, but before things could escalate into more fun things a knock interrupts you. Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader Warnings: established relationship, explicit sexual content (18+), dirty talk, language, oral (m receiving), deep throating (if you squint your eyes), face slapping (with his cock), getting interrupted, no proofreading Word count: 1.2k Requested! thank you anon!

The set was buzzing with people running around, talking with each other or just the occasional yell of the director as he told them what to do. This was one of those days where you visited Pedro, but you made sure that every occasion was unforgettable for him.

All day while he was standing from across you in that white shirt, tie and black slacks trying to focus on his lines, but it was quite hard for him while you were sitting in the shadows behind the camera. You made sure you put on lacy panties that day with a skirt, providing him a full look whenever he looked in your direction. And by the look on his face and the way he adjusted himself multiple times when no one was watching told you that it worked.

“All right, that’s a wrap for today, guys!” the director yelled out, and everyone started to pack the cameras, trying to get out as fast as possible so they could have more free time.

You couldn’t even understand what was happening when Pedro suddenly stopped in front of you and pulled you up from the chair.

“You’re coming with me. Now!”

His hand remained on your upper arm as he guided you through the rest of the set and between the trailers before he opened the door of his and gently shoved you inside. The streaks of the dipping sun were playing across the walls and the floor, but you couldn’t look around more because Pedro turned you around and his lips crashed against yours.

The kiss wasn’t slow or tender, it was heated and passionate from the very first second, and you involuntarily moaned into it. He used this moment to push his tongue into your mouth and explore every little corner that he hadn’t explored before. His hand was moving lower on your body before it dipped under your skirt and his fingers fell over the lace—now covered in your juices.

“Fuck, look at this, darling. You’re so wet for me already and I just kissed you,” he murmured next to your ear and his voice sent shivers down your body, the heat building inside your lower belly. He moved his hand back and forth, but before you could’ve begged him to do something, he pulled away. Your eyes shot open, and it met with his piercing ones. “On your knees, darling.”

His voice was low and commanding, and you slowly lowered yourself to the ground, the prominent tent in his slacks coming to eye level. His hands moved to unbuckle his belt, the clink of the metal echoing in the small space. The zipper came undone next, and he pulled down the pants with his briefs to the middle of his thighs and his cock sprang free from its confines.

You sat on your heels, waiting for his next words. You watched as he took his cock and started stroking himself, spreading the precome over its length. The head was flushed, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

“You don’t have makeup on, do you?” his voice barely above a whisper, and you slightly shook your head. You saw the content smile on his lips, and he let out a low hum. “Good girl.”

His praise sent even more heat through your body, and you glanced up at him when he stepped closer to you. His fingers curled around the base of his cock, and he slapped it against your cheek softly two times. You felt the precome leak onto your face, and you were glad you decided against any makeup that morning.

“Open wide for me,” his command came out as a murmur, but you still heard him and opened your mouth, your tongue sticking out. His hand gathered your hair in a fist, the other one falling on your cheek as he guided his length between your lips.

Your hands came up to either side of his hips as you closed your mouth around him and started to move your head. His grip tightened on your hair, and he let out a strained moan, trying to stay as quiet as possible, knowing well that the walls were quite thin and anybody could hear him if they walked past.

You took him as deep as possible, the curls at the base of his cock tickling your nose. Your tongue moved around the tip every time you pulled back and moved down on him again. His groans were increasing with every passing minute, and you moaned around him, the vibrations making him grasp at the edge of the little built-in kitchen counter.

“Jesus, I’m gonna—fuck—I’m gonna come, darling,” his voice was strained, but you didn’t falter in your movements. Instead, you picked up your pace, and you felt him get closer when his cock started twitching in your mouth.

With the last bob of your head he spilled into your mouth, hot ropes of his cum hitting the back of your throat and you swallowed every drop of it, watching the expression on his face, his muscles twitching under your palms.

But three rapid knocks rang inside the trailer, and you quickly moved off of him, standing up, and trying to look as decent as you could. You followed his movements as he quickly put away himself, buckling his belt again, and you wiped the spot of precome on your cheek. You tried to ignore the ache between your thighs and tried to focus on your breathing as Pedro walked to the door and opened it.

“Hey, we’re going to that bar with the guys where we were in the early stages of filming,” Vanessa’s voice broke the quiet, and you watched the interaction between them, trying to stay out of this conversation. “You guys wanna come with us or… Are you too busy?”

Pedro cleared his throat once and he raked his fingers through his hair before answering.

“Uhm, yeah, yeah sure we… We’ll be out in five.”

“Alright,” she turned around, and you saw the way Pedro let out a long breath, but it didn’t last long because she came back and leaned slightly in the doorway. “And try to look more decent when you changed your clothes,” there was a hidden mischief in her voice and a knowing smile on her face.

“Uhm, what do you mean?”

“Oh, babe, your zipper’s down and you,” her finger pointed at you and your back straightened like they put a wooden board behind it. “Your hair looks like someone’s who’s just woken up,” she turned back to Pedro, and you blushed at her comment, reaching up and trying to fix the messy strands. “I’m a woman, babe, I notice things. Anyway, don’t be over five.”

You both watched as she took the steps down the stairs before Pedro closed the door and looked at you. His face softened when he noticed the frustration on your face—the frustration of not being able to come—and he was in front of you in two big steps. He held your face and looked deep into your eyes, the deep brown orbs seeing into your soul.

“I swear to God, darling, when we get back to the hotel tonight, I’m going to make up for this.”

You gave him and understanding nod, and he rushed off to change after he gave you a long and apologetic kiss.

Maybe you didn’t have the opportunity to come that afternoon in his trailer, but when you got back to your hotel suite that night, he made sure you were thoroughly satisfied and utterly blissed out.

#pedro pascal #pedropascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal smut

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ishestillapunk · 1 day ago

Text

tw: explicit content

imagine (yes, again) joel being so addicted to your sounds that he knows every little sound you make and what does each of them mean.

like, that brief moment where your breathing halts between waking up and staying in that world of dreams. that small 'mgh...' that comes with a long sigh and then, your eyes opening.

or the quiet 'ngh' you let out when you accidentally mess some of your recipes and you realize you have to start all over again.

but there's others that he loves way more.

he likes to fuck you against the mattress, one hand holding both your wrists over the arch of your back while he drives deep into your pussy and start hitting that spongy spot. he loves the rhythmic little 'uh uh uh uh' you let out muffled against the pillows.

or crescendo you let out while your eyes roll to the back of your head. like a sound you old onto, clutching on it until you decide to finally let go of it. the 'a...aa....aah... Aah!'

or the jerky sound of you trying to control your breathing and relaxing your body to let his cock slide inside you.

or the gasp you make when he finally pushes inside, sliding all the way in.

Or your whimpers between laughs.

Or the cursing between thrusts.

Or the sloppy and sticky sound the back of your throat does when it receives him.

Oh, he could do this all day.

#joel miller #fanfic writing #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal #fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #jackson!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #ppcu smut #joel smut #smut #jackson tlou #jackson joel #imagine

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xbeababyx · 2 days ago

Text

I want to lick those fingers.

#pedro pascal #daddy pedro #pedrohub #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal daddy #pedropascaledit #pedro pascal edit #pedropascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #daddy pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #mr fantastic #reed richards #we love you pedro #pedroispunk #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

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berryispunk · 22 hours ago

Text

pairing: Frankie Morales x f! reader

tags: explicit!, pwp, established relationship, kitchen sex, soft!dom Frankie, teasing, unprotected PinV, Frankie the aftercare king™, some dirty talk, feral Frankie, bratty reader

summary: After a day of teasing him past his limit, you finally push Frankie to the edge and he makes sure you feel every second of his frustration.

word count: ~ 1,8 k

notes: Tried something new with the moodboard/header, tell me if you like it. Highly inspired by my angel @holbrk 🤍 Happy FF my loves ! 🧢

“Are you done?”

Frankie’s voice is low. Tight, almost calm but not really. There’s an edge under it now, one you’ve been teasing at all day.

You blink, halfway through a cheeky little comment, spoon still in hand, trying to stir the pasta while bumping your hip with his. “Done with what?” you grin.

He exhales through his nose. “With this game.”

You tilt your head. “You mean the one where I win every round?”

The silence that follows is deadly. He sets down the knife he’d been using to slice vegetables, his movements slow and deliberate.

“You’ve been poking at me since nine in the morning.” His voice is low, but that sharp tension is coiled in every word. “When I was on that call you moaned like you were in a fucking porno just to mess me up. You hid my keys. You bit me in the elevator.”

You open your mouth, still smiling—maybe to tease again, but you never get the chance.

Frankie grabs your wrist and spins you, pressing your back into the fridge in one swift, fluid motion. Not painful, but with enough force your back hit the fridge with a thud. The spoon clatters to the floor. He cages you in, arms on either side of your head, chest heaving like he just ran a mile.

Your breath catches.

“Frankie—”

“No.” His eyes are dark. Wild. “You don’t get to act like a brat all day and pretend you don’t know what you’re doing. You knew exactly what would happen.”

He leans in, dragging his mouth across your cheek, down your jaw, his stubble rough and burning. “You’ve been begging for this since breakfast.”

His hand slides down your side, grabs your thigh and lifts it. You wrap it around his hip on instinct, and that’s when you feel it—how hard he is. How long he’s been holding back.

“You’re gonna take it now,” he growls against your throat. “All of it. All this fucking frustration you built up with your little games. You wanted my attention, baby? You’ve got it.”

His hand slides under your shirt, tugging it up as his mouth finds your collarbone—biting, not gentle. Not like he usually is. There’s no slow worship, no reverent touch like he’s tracing you in braille. No, this is rough. This is deliberate. This is him driven.

He pulls your shirt over your head, drops it somewhere behind you. “Look at you. Always so smug. So fucking mouthy.”

Your bra joins the pile. He cups your breasts, thumbing over your hardened nipples until you gasp.

“That smug little attitude,” he whispers, lips against yours, “gonna be real quiet when I’m fucking you against the counter.”

You whimper, arching into him. “Frankie—”

He cuts you off with a deep, dirty kiss. His tongue slides into your mouth like he owns it, like he’s reclaiming it. One hand’s already working your jeans open, the other gripping your jaw.

“Turn around,” he commands, voice rough and you know he means business. Frankie’s usually more controlled in his desire. Even when he’s pent up, he’s careful. Respectful. Always checking in. But today, you see something else. The soldier. The pilot. The man who gives orders and expects them to be obeyed.

You hesitate for just a heartbeat and see quickly it’s the wrong move.

He spins you himself, hands on your hips, pressing you against the counter next to the fridge. Your jeans are halfway down before you can even blink. Your panties? Torn at the seam with one quick pull.

“I said you were gonna feel it,” he repeats, voice low and dangerous. It sends a shiver down your spine, the fine hairs on your neck standing on end.

You moan, the cold surface on your front making his warmth behind you feel blazing. He lines himself up—no teasing, no build-up—and sinks into you in one slow, ruthless thrust.

You cry out. “Oh, fuck—” and grip the counter tightly.

“Yeah,” he groans, gripping your hips like a lifeline. “You feel that? That’s what you’ve been working for all fucking day.”

He starts to move. Deep, rough. Every thrust slams you into the kitchen aisle with a thud that echoes through the kitchen. You’re gasping, eyes fluttering, your smartass grin completely gone. In this angle you feel so incredibly full, it’s almost painful.

“Still got something to say?” he pants, voice wrecked. “Still wanna push my buttons?”

But you’re already falling apart. Whining, thighs trembling—too far gone for words, not that anything you said would make sense anyway.

He leans in, chest to your back, breath hot at your ear. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

One hand slips between your legs, fingers slick and merciless against your clit. He knows exactly how to make you fall apart with his precise movements. “Now you’re gonna come for me,” he says, teeth grazing your ear. “You’re gonna fall apart just like this, right here in my kitchen. Gonna let the whole neighborhood hear how good I make you feel.”

And you do. With a scream so loud it echoes, his name tangled in there like a curse or a prayer—you don’t know which is more fitting. But Frankie doesn’t stop. He fucks you through it. Grunting and groaning against the back of your neck, his grip digging into the softness of your hips like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. A string of Spanish curses follows, his hips snapping into yours, the obscene sounds of skin against skin thick in the air.

And when he finally comes, soft stomach pressed tight to your back, moaning low and filthy into your skin you both go still. You feel him in every fiber of your body. Every drop of him filling you up to the brim, his cock twitching deep inside as he spills into you.

After a few blissful seconds, reality begins to slip back in. The hum of the fridge is the first thing you notice, steady and low beside you. Your breathing is still shallow, syncing with his. The pasta on the stove is long forgotten.

And when he speaks again, his voice is raw, low and wrecked:

“Next time,” he breathes against the nape of your neck, his kiss tender, like an apology for his wild side, “I’m handcuffing you to the bed the second you start acting cute.”

You laugh breathlessly at that before you slump forward, cheek against the cool surface, skin flushed and trembling.

Frankie still has his hands on your hips but the grip is softer now. Gentle.

Like he’s reminding himself you’re real. That he didn’t go too far.

“Hey,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss between your shoulder blades. “You with me?”

You nod, a shaky little sound in your throat. “Mhm…”

He doesn’t move away just yet. Instead, he cradles you from behind, his arms winding around your waist, his chest still heaving against your back. He presses more kisses to your neck. Apologetic, almost.

“Too much?” he asks quietly.

You turn your head, eyes still a little glassy, and give him a lopsided smile. “Not even close.”

“Okay,” he breathes, brushing the hair from your damp forehead. “Okay. Let’s get you down from here, mi amor.”

He helps you turn, legs a little wobbly, and lifts you effortlessly onto the counter—hands under your thighs, always so damn careful with you. He steps back, tugging his sweats up, and pads to the sink. He runs the water warm, grabs a clean towel, dampens it.

He comes back, eyes soft now—frustration long gone, replaced by pure devotion. The contradiction makes your head spin a little. He kneels between your knees, gently cleaning you up, being so thoroughly tender it almost makes you cry.

“You didn’t hurt me, Frankie,” you say before he can ask.

He kisses the inside of your thigh. “Still, I got carried away. ‘m sorry.”

You cup his face, make him look up at you. “No need. It’s what I wanted. I was driving you crazy on purpose.”

He gives you a crooked, exhausted smile. “Yeah, well. You succeeded. But maybe warn me next time you’re planning to ruin my whole day.”

“No fun in that,” you whisper, and lean down to kiss him.

He stands and pulls you into his chest, one arm around your back, one hand stroking your hair. “You really okay?”

“More than okay,” you murmur into his neck. “But I wouldn’t say no to water and one of those soft-boy cuddles you do so well.”

Frankie chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest against your cheek, he kisses your hairline. “You mean the ones where I wrap you up in a blanket burrito and feed you grapes like a Roman emperor?”

“Exactly those.”

“You got it, baby.”

He helps you down, tugs his t-shirt over your head without a word, and scoops you into his arms like you weigh nothing at all.

“I can walk, Francisco,” you scold him, hand against his still bare chest.

“I know,” he says, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t treat you like a princess sometimes. My bratty princess,” he adds with a smirk.

He sets you gently down onto the couch, then drapes your favorite one of his soft blankets around your shoulders. His hand lingers at your back, rubbing slow, comforting circles before he disappears into the kitchen. A few moments later, he returns with a glass of water and presses it into your hand without a word.

You nod, murmuring, “Thanks.”

Frankie sinks down beside you, still bare waist up, not bothering to get dressed—content just to be close.

“You good?” he murmurs, fingers brushing through your hair. “Need anything else?”

You hum, curling into his chest. “Just you.”

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath since you first started teasing him this morning.

“Was it too much?” he asks softly. “I would’ve stopped if—”

You cut him off with a kiss to his jaw. “It was perfect. You were perfect.”

He nods, arms tightening around you. You feel his still racing heart under your cheek. He’s always like this after. A little wrecked, a little worried.

“I love you,” you whisper into his throat. “Even when you fuck me like a man possessed.”

He lets out a breathy laugh. “I was possessed. By you.”

“You liked it.”

“I loved it,” he says, tilting your chin up. “But I love this more.”

“This?”

“You,” he says. “All quiet and soft in my arms after. Letting me take care of you.”

You smile, melting into his side. “I always do.”

“Good,” he murmurs, kissing your nose. “Because I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

thanks for reading 💌

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lazysoulwriter · 1 day ago

Text

cramps & cuddles (and a little green guy)

requested! thank you.content: period pain, ultimate comfort boyfriend Pedro, Grogu heating pad, cuddles, gentle care, fluff fluff fluff.

You don’t even hear the door open.

You’re on the couch, curled in a hoodie that smells like him, face squished into a pillow, knees drawn up tight. Wrapped in blankets like a burrito — only less fun. More pain.

The cramps are relentless. Deep and low and awful. You’re exhausted from feeling sore, from holding tension you can’t stretch out, from existing.

Then you hear keys. The door. Soft footsteps.

“Mi amor…?”

Pedro’s voice, low and gentle.

You lift your hand slightly from under the blanket in response. No energy for words.

He rounds the corner, eyes scanning you — this little lump of hurt — and immediately, his whole body softens.

“Oh, sweetheart…”

He kneels next to the couch, brushing your hair back. “Still bad?”

You nod against the pillow. Barely.

His thumb strokes your cheek. “I brought something.”

You blink one eye open.

And there it is.

A Grogu heating pad. Big floppy ears. Round sleepy eyes. A little smile that you almost match with your own.

Your brows lift. “Is that…?”

Pedro grins. “Mm-hmm. Ordered it last month. It came early. He’s warm already.”

He moves gently, lifting the hem of your hoodie, and carefully places Grogu over your lower belly.

You inhale. Deep and slow.

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah?” he whispers, brushing his knuckles down your arm. “That better?”

“Mm. Yeah.”

“Good.”

He tugs his shoes off and climbs behind you on the couch, slotting his body against yours, wrapping around you like he was made to fit there. One arm under your head, the other across your waist, his palm covering Grogu protectively.

He kisses your temple. Your cheek. The edge of your ear.

“I’m here,” he murmurs. “Just rest. I’ll hold you.”

You hum softly, breathing deeper already, like your whole body is recognizing the safety of being loved this well.

Pedro pulls the blanket tighter around you both.

“Me, you, and this little guy,” he says quietly, tapping Grogu’s head. “Perfect team.”

You smile. Eyes closed. “Best nurse I’ve ever had.”

He kisses your forehead. “And the cutest patient.”

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

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andy-15-07 · 2 days ago

Note

Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Pedro was in Jimmy Kimmel Live for Fantastic Four: the first step, you’re his secret lover. You are so proud of him, trusting you so much. The way he dressed was so wonderful. You even look at the tv that you miss him so much. After that, he really want to text you that he’ll be coming home.

The First Step Home

PAIRING: Pedro Pascal x reader

WORD COUNT: 641| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist | Pedro Pascal Masterlist II

Joel Miller Masterlist

The moment the screen lit up and the Jimmy Kimmel Live! logo appeared, Y/N curled deeper into the couch, pulling Pedro’s oversized hoodie over her knees. It still smelled like him,cedarwood, coffee, and something warm and unnameable that clung to the fabric like comfort.

And then there he was.

Pedro Pascal, her Pedro, smiling under the studio lights in that effortlessly charming way that made the whole world fall for him. But it was the way he was dressed tonight that made her heart squeeze: sharp black blazer with subtle texture, dark slacks tailored just right, and that slightly unbuttoned shirt with a hint of chain peeking through.

He looked stunning.

And God, did she miss him.

He was promoting Fantastic Four: The First Step tonight, a project he'd poured himself into for the last year. The world was seeing him as a Marvel hero now. But you? You saw the man who fell asleep on your chest during long nights of filming, who whispered lines in your ear to practice before auditions, who nervously asked if you thought he'd "overdid it" every time he tried something new.

Jimmy teased him gently about keeping his personal life so secret, asking if there was “someone special” behind the scenes.

Pedro smiled that crooked, boyish smile. “There’s someone very special,” he said, eyes soft. “But we like to keep things... quiet. Safe.”

Y/N smiled at the TV, her throat tightening with pride. God, you’re so good at this. At loving me like a secret that doesn��t feel like a secret at all.

She reached for her phone, her thumb hovering over their message thread. She didn’t want to bother him,he was probably backstage, bombarded with texts and emails and calls,but the urge to tell him how proud she was nearly overwhelmed her.

Instead, she typed a simple line:

You looked so beautiful tonight. I’m proud of you. Always.

She stared at the screen for a moment before hitting send.

No reply, of course. She didn’t expect one. Not until hours later, when his name buzzed on her phone just as she was brushing her teeth in the dim light of their shared bathroom.

Pedro :

Baby.

I watched your text on the ride back. I can’t stop reading it.

I’m coming home. Tonight. Just a few hours. I need to see you.

I miss you so much.

She laughed, blinking back tears. Her heart fluttered as she sat on the bathroom counter, toothbrush in hand, grinning like an idiot. He always found a way to say the exact right thing at the exact right time.

Y/N:

You’re not too tired? You sure?

I’ll stay up. I’ll make tea. Or whiskey. Dealer’s choice.

Pedro :

Whiskey. Hoodie. You. That’s all I need.

She glanced at her reflection. Tired eyes, no makeup, hair in a bun that had seen better days. But she felt radiant. Because he was coming home,not Pedro Pascal, the movie star, but Pedro, her tired, softhearted idiot who kissed her shoulder before falling asleep and called her “mi alma” when he thought she was already dreaming.

She curled back into the couch with a blanket and waited, TV humming low, heart beating louder than the sound.

And when the key finally turned in the door at 2:47 a.m., she didn’t even bother hiding her smile.

He stood there, in the dark hallway, hair tousled from running his hand through it a hundred times, blazer slung over one arm, eyes warm.

“You watched it?” he asked softly.

“I watched it,” she said, pulling him in by the shirt as he dropped his bag.

He kissed her with the weight of missing her, and she clung to him like she hadn’t breathed since he left.

“You were perfect,” she whispered.

He rested his forehead against hers. “You make it easy to be brave.”

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marcuspikegf · 15 hours ago

Text

joel miller x single mom! reader

𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐝, 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞

wordcount 2.7k | requests are open | about me + masterlist | harry castillo x singlemom!reader here if anyone is interested....

reblogs and comments are appreciated!!! comment if you want to be tagged! send me asks about this! asks/ideas/anything! inbox is always open :) everyone who reblogs i love you so VERY much

summary: sometimes, living with the grief of sarah and her mother's death haunts him. and one aimless drive leads to meeting a single mother who ran away with her six month old baby. no outbreak au. warnings: like one MENTION of breastfeeding. because...baby... but no actual scenes of it. mentions, but no actual direct scenes of spousal abuse (from reader's husband. NOT joel...joel is a sweetheart.) mentions of death and grief. apart from that? so much fluff. tooth rotting, dentist calling fluff. oldman joel swandiving in love. age gap? joel is 40/50 and reader is 25/30? afab reader. reader's husband is an abusive asshole. authors note: it's 2am....so i'm not just in the baby fever trenches, i've become a lieutenant in the baby fever trench. idk what to tell you i’m actually possessed, hiding behind my hands etc. i think i just want a baby and a big strong man to save me. i don’t know what to tell you. i give up i’m not strong enough to resist baby fever. i am also not american, i actually do not know anything about america. tbf. reader could be read as an immigrant who is new to the country, if you wish, because that's how it is in my mind. again this is a new style of writing...no capitals just vibes. this might have a continuation...idk pls tell me if this is bad so we can just scrap it. this is so self indulgent.... reblogs and likes and comments and follows are actually just love. joel as we ALL know is a girldad, and deserves a second chance at being a father and a parent again. i've just been yapping to my poor friends about this, and one of them was like "i was having these exact thoughts did i bluetooth them to you" LMAO. i was writing the harry castillo x single mom fic and then this idea jumped into my head, i am a slave to my whims. reader loves her daughter so very very very much. why do i only post in random hours of the night...idk i actually need to sleep more. goodnight readerss

the sun is low in the sky at this time of day, when the orange mixes with the purple of the night. evenings like these are when the loss of sarah and tess haunt his memories, the crash site photos burnt into the back of his eyelids. so he sits in his truck, and drives. aimlessly. he’s too old to wish for better days, the life he had built torn away from his hands. this is the after, and he doesn’t want to think about what is in the after. he drives on the highway at an easy speed, watching the leafy suburbs turn into sand and farm, acres of corn, bales of hay. everything is rougher in small towns, and everyone knows everyone. that’s why he had to leave, couldn’t stand the pity in people’s eyes when they spoke to him. that’s why he moved closer to austin

the contracting company has done well for itself, he wishes he could tell tess that. tell her that they finally made it out, and moved into a cushy house in the suburbs, him and tommy having done well for themselves.

there isn’t a tess to tell, nor is there a sarah. the house is too big for one man to live in it alone.

at least tommy has maria to go back to, and there’s something hollow in the pit of his stomach that reminds him that he must have done something truly terrible in his past life, to have him live this one instead. sickeningly lonely, with the sound of the birds to keep company.

a car sits at the edge of the road. a light blue and unassuming, like it’s just been parked off and left there. it catches his eye, pulling him out of his thoughts. a hint of a pink bow, through the windows.

he pulls over to the side, concerned, the car doesn’t look like it’s in good shape either, a mirror’s busted and a light broken. he turns off the engine, and steps out of the truck, keyring around his finger as he scans the surrounding area. it’s still evening, still quiet, and still a lonely stretch of road.

“excuse me..?” he calls out, voice as polite as he can manage it to be. rough from being choked up, but still kind. he hears a hesitant step from the other side of the car, and then hushed murmuring in another language. the door closes gently, and he hears shoes on the gravel, and his eyes turn to you.

he’s never seen eyes as enchanting as yours, caught in the amber sunlight, worried as they keep flicking back to whatever is inside the backseat of the car, and him. he wears a t-shirt, green and worn, with flannel over it. cargo trousers that hold tools and his phone, that pull down his pockets. he can see your eyes narrow, and search him, before they turn wide as a doe, and then back to the backseat.

“excuse me, ma’am.” he will never not be polite, the southern manners baked into him, and he knows he must look a sight right now, but the road is forlorn, and your car does not seem to be working.

his words make your eyes harden, and you raise a finger to your lips. he must be louder than he thinks he is, “sorry about that ma’am.” he adds, quietly. but whatever damage he was going to do, is done.

a wail from the backseat, and you hastily open the door, unbuckle something, and pick up a baby from the back seat, rocking it against your body as you shush it gently. you smooth its head with gentle hands, making circles on the back of the little bodysuit with yellow ducks printed on it.

he presumes that’s what you were looking at when your eyes kept moving to the backseat. a pink bow in your hair, that you gently place in the mop of curly black hair of your child, a baby girl.

the baby, the girl, quietens down after a few minutes, and she curls up into your arms, pressing against the skin of your neck and chest, exposed by the dress you wear. it’s long, past your ankles, a square cut, with a cute strawberry print. its only then he realises how much shorter you are, he towers over you. your hair pulled back into a low bun, barely any wrinkles marring your face.

you’re younger than him.

obviously, he almost wants to hit himself on the head for coming to that conclusion so late. and somehow your eyes carry something indescribable, something too heavy for someone like you to carry.

the baby squirms in your arms, “you are fine my dear, i love you my dear.” you whisper sweet nothings into her hair, but he doesn’t know who it calms more.

it’s rude to just keep staring, but he does anyway, he hasn’t seen someone as soft as this since…

you turn your head to babble at your daughter, and there is a purple bruise on your jaw. and his stomach drops to a pit. who could have done that to you?

“ma’am?” he tries again, and takes a step closer. you flinch back from him, arms wrapping around your daughter protectively. your eyes are as wide as a deer caught in headlights.

he raises his hands in surrender, no fists, nothing in his hands. just palms facing the sun, and a comforting smile on his face.

you swallow thickly, wobbly on your legs with the adrenaline that is crashing, “my car, it. i think it’s leaking petrol.” you don’t mention the broken mirror or headlights, and he has a feeling it’s the same person who’s given you that bruise.

he nods once, and then crouches at where the spill of petrol is, the smell of gasoline is obvious as it crouches closer. the tyres look worn with use, a thought flashes through his head, the gasoline cannot be good for the baby.

strange how worry grips his throat.

“you can’t drive this, darlin’” he drawls, driving this around could lead to the whole car bursting into flames, killing everyone inside.

he has only known you for ten minutes, and the worry is gripping his throat like a vice.

“i need to.” you say, so determined in your words. you need to drive this car, keep driving. he can see that you are running.

“i can drive you to the closest town, get a towing service and a mechanic to look at that.” he wipes his hands on the corduroy of his cargos.

your baby snuffles in your arms, and your breath hitches. the child you carry in your arms is your world, and the way you look down at her. his heartbeat stutters.

“i can’t…” you say, gently. like the gentleness is forced, like it has been beaten into you, “i don’t have a lot of money. i’m sorry.”

the gentleness warms his heart anyway, and he comes a little closer. this time you do not flinch back so hard.

“ ‘s okay.” he says, with a small smile on his face, like he’s trying to be gentle too. he has not been gentle in years. cruel and isolated from the world, he has grown older and not kinder.

but you, you make him wish to be kind.

“wouldn’t want to see your baby sit on the side of the road at night.” he adds, and the mention of your child must have worked, because you start walking towards your broken car.

you open the door with a heavy click, and place your daughter into the child seat. you take the seat out with the handle, and she reaches out to you with her tiny hands, joel gets to see her face for the first time.

jesus, she can’t be older than a year. maybe even younger. she’s tiny, a life, and has your nose.

you heave the seat with a huff, and you look thin. like you haven’t eaten well in days. your hands shake holding the heavy carseat, and suddenly he is there, placing a hand over yours as you grip the handle.

“ma’am, look.” he says, all polite again. hopefully the crack in his voice doesn’t give away the fear he’s feeling, the fear that you will drop the seat in your exhaustion, “i got it.”

he takes the handle from you, even if your hands grip it. his hands are so much bigger than yours, and so so much bigger than your daughters as her attention focuses on him. she babbles nonsense as he starts his walk towards the truck, and you hurry behind him.

“can you secure the seat in your backseat?” you ask, and he just gives you a hum in agreement.

you follow him to his truck, your baby in his hands, under the orange light of the summer evening.

he keeps turning back, to see if you follow. foolish of him, of course you’ll follow your own damn baby to the ends of the earth and back. your eyes are always on him, constantly watching in the short distance to his truck.

he opens the door, and you start clearing away the junk in the back seat to make space for the car seat. he can see your eyebrows raise as you see all the tools.

“i’m a contractor.” he mentions, and you frown at him. perhaps english is not your first language. “i build things.” he makes a hammer motion with his hand, and your daughter seemingly loves it. she claps her hands and giggles, and the giggle sounds so much like sarah that his heart might just shatter into a thousand pieces.

“oh, i see.” is all you say, and continue moving the tools from the backseat to the floor, a safe distance away from your daughter.

you are quiet.

he takes a sharp breath in.

you buckle your daughter’s seat into the truck, and then look at her for a long while. he recognises the look, it’s one of love, so much love that

it hurts.

his heart hurts with the pain, but he doesn’t know if it hurts at the jagged edge of the memories, or of the fear of something else bubbling up in his chest.

suddenly, you unclip your daughter from her seat, and hold her in your arms.

“can i sit at the front with her?” you ask, softly, “i was driving for a while before i…”

“of course.” he says, before he even processes what he said.

you smile at him, your first real smile. the smile that was directed at your daughter a few times now turned onto him. it makes his insides goo, and his heart thud in his chest faster. he didn’t even know his heart could reach speeds like that anymore.

sitting into the truck is easy, it feels like something that you three have done before. even if this is the first time you are in his truck. the scent of pine freshener wafts through the air, and he turns the ac on to blow against your daughter’s face.

her eyes brighten up with the cool wind, and she’s content with playing with the vents, opening them and closing them. you on the other hand, hold her tightly on your lap. but you look exhausted, dark circles under your beautiful eyes. ashen skin, exhaustion in every line of your face.

his eyes linger on the bruise on your jaw, before they turn back to the road. your daughter plays with the buttons of the ac, wind is blowing onto his feet, and then suddenly not.

“look outside bubba.” you say, delicately, turning her towards the window. the sky is darkening, a beautiful purple, with the moon large and white against the sky.

your voice is so sweet, it reminds him of tess, of memories buried deep under years.

“see the moon bubba?” you continue, stroking her hair as she rests her head on your chest again, “can you say moooooon?”

“ ‘ooon.” she mumbles, sleepily, face smushing against your chest.

you smile down at her, “yes bubba, moon.”

“she not speak yet?” his drawl is so gravely, so deep that it almost scares you in the silent.

“no, not yet.” you answer, politely, and then have the need to add, “but she’s very smart.”

“i can tell.” he nods, eyes on the road again. if tess was here, twenty years ago, holding sarah like that…he would have said “smart like your mama.”

but this is not tess. this is a strange lady sitting in his truck. and this is not sarah, this is the lady’s daughter sitting on her lap.

“never got your name.” he says, idle conversation.

“i never gave it.” your voice is quiet.

“ ‘m joel, joel miller.” he offers an olive branch, “millers construction? you might have heard of it? i run it with my brother tommy.”

“(y/n).”

you take it.

“and precious there?” he adds, and you laugh, a gentle thing.

“her father wanted to call her his mothers name.” you say, sullenly, and then kiss her head, “but i…i didn’t want that. her father is not…a very good man.”

you lick your lips, “her name is violet, right bubba? violet’s like your mommy’s favourite colour."

a blank slate, a completely blank slate, full of kindness and nose kisses and where did you run from?

the phone rings, and his brother’s contact photo lights up his phone. it rings, startling your daughter, but he quickly opens it and puts it on speakerphone.

“hey tommy.”

“hey joel!” his brother’s voice is tinny in the phone, “i was just wonderi’ where you were, did you get back home safe after the job?”

“yeah, no ‘m fine, i promise.”

your eyes flick between him and the contact photo. you mouth “tommy?” and he nods affirmative.

“okay well, i’m just checking up on you man. i want to know you’re safe.”

“yes tommy.” he says it like he doesn’t mean it in the slightest, and then a “goodbye.” with more feeling.

the flashing lights of the town sparkle in the distance, and in these idle words, a town is probably there.

“no mechanic would be open at this hour.” a cough, as he tilts his head out to the night.

you frown, and and your daughter curls her hand around your finger.

she needs to feed, and you need to eat. if not for yourself, then at least for her.

it’s as if he can tell, see something in your expression bounce. “hey, i can get us coffee, maybe some pancakes?”

and then, a little bit more kindly, “i’m in the suburbs of austin, it’s another fifteen minutes away… i can get you a motel there?”

“i don’t…” you trail off, throat bobbing. “i don’t…”

the money, you don’t have the money.

“it’s fine.”

“it’s really not.” but your daughter is fussing and she’ll cry if she’s hungry. you don’t want your daughter to go hungry all night.

his heart breaks at your daughter’s cries, and he parks the car at a stop, large hands gentle over your shoulders. so much bigger than yours, so much warmer than yours.

he knows how it looks, a strange man, bigger than you, offering help. but nothing is ever free, and you don’t know what will happen to you or your daughter.

it’s desperation, he can see it written all over your face, in the tears in your own eyes that make them glossy. you grab his fingers with your hand, and tighten it.

“i’m trusting you.” perhaps those are not the three words every man dreams of, but you with your bambi eyes, it’s as if you hand him the keys of your heart.

he squeezes your hand back, “thank you.” he doesn’t know what you’re running from. but at that moment, looking at you with your daughter in your arms, he wishes to take those keys, and keep them somewhere safe in his heart.

your daughter sighs happily, and turns to him with her big eyes. she gives him a smile, “ ‘ooon!” pointing at him.

“that’s not the moon bubba, that’s mr miller.” you correct her.

“joel.” he corrects you.

“joel then.” you nod, and then boop your daughter on her nose.

“ ‘ooooon!” she repeats, and when you laugh at her single word, he laughs too. he is not too old, that his life is over. not yet anyway.

thank you so much for reading!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 any comments on this are very much appreciated! my requests and inbox and everything is so open please talk to me about this fic, or any of my other fics!! ok i am going to BED NOW. the 4 hours of sleep last night rlly are catching up to me....

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